The Key to Immortality
by AgaruTomo
Summary: After being taken from her own world, Rayven Bek is taken in by Greed. She draws the interest of the Military, and Dante. She has something they all want, but Greed had her first, and what Greed has, he KEEPS. Greed/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

_It was pitch dark. There was no moon, and the stars were hidden by heavy clouds. The streets of Dublith were quiet, the windows of the houses dark as their inhabitants slept. Street lamps flickered as a chill wind blew, the leaves of the trees rustling dryly. Only one person walked the streets, and they were in no position to call themselves human. It was a Homunculus, an artificial human; a being born from a failed human transmutation. He went by the name of Greed, also called the Ultimate Shield. _

_His features were hard and angular, his teeth sharp, giving the vague impression of a shark or of some great lizard. A red Oroborus mark surrounding an odd star adorned the back of his left hand, vivid proof of what he was. He was tall, his close-cropped, spiky brown hair almost black. His eyes were a brilliant amethyst, the dark pupils silted like those of a beast. There were five other Homunculi, and they were each named for one of the Seven Deadly Sins; Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Pride, and Sloth. There were meant to be seven in all, but Wrath was yet unborn. _

_ Greed was rather different from his 'siblings', he always had been. In fact, he held great contempt for the others, Envy in particular. He had no conscious urge to become human as the others did, and was the only one not to view humans and worthless fools and pawns, to be used and manipulated. But what Greed did desire was immortality. He wanted to live forever, never tiring; to be completely invincible and able to take whatever he wanted; to take everything. When he wanted something, he would take it without question, whether it belonged to someone else or not. There was only one thing Greed had not been able to obtain, and it was the very thing he wanted most. But that was about to change._

_ Greed would have his chance at immortality, but whether or not he would take that chance would be up to him._

000

Rayven ran her fingers through her long brown hair, sighing loudly. "This is gonna take forever," she muttered, pouting at the rows and rows of bookshelves that were spread out before her. She was standing in some wing of the library—she didn't know which wing—trying to think of where to start looking. She had come to the library with the intention of starting her summer report on ancient sciences. Or, more specifically, on alchemy. It had caught her interest on the list of possible report subjects, as she knew a little bit about it from some of the fantasy novels that she had read. Turning lead into gold, finding the elixir of life; it was a subject that Rayven thought that she could do a fairly good report on. But now, with so many books before her and not having any idea where or how to start, she was feeling a bit discouraged.

Making a face, Rayven hefted her camouflage messenger bag higher on her shoulder, and adjusted the baggy gray hoodie she wore over a faded button-up blue shirt. The jeans that hung off her hips were big on her, and her black boots were scuffed and spotted with mud. Her dark, full lips still pouting, Rayven advanced into the shelves with a look of resignation in her green eyes.

She came across no one as she moved slowly through the silent shelves, eyes looking from side to side at the books she passed. At times, Rayven could be lazy, but she was also mulishly stubborn; once she started something, she refused to stop until it was finished. She kept moving, and after what seemed like hours, she found the shelf that held what few books the library had on alchemy.

Brushing her hair out of her face, she reached out towards a thick, newer looking book with a laminated cover. However, before she touched it, a moderately sized, faded blue volume caught her eye. It was most certainly an older book, the cloth cover fraying in paces. As she pulled the book from the shelf, she felt a small shiver run up her arm. Brushing it off as the result of an old, drafty building, Rayven looked at the cover. The silver writing on it was faded, and she couldn't quite read the words. Despite the book's appearance, Rayven found herself intrigued. Putting the book under her arm, She left the shelves and wandered over to one of the groups of small tables. She set her bag down, though kept the strap hooked over her arm.

Sitting down, she set the book before her. She tucked her hair behind her ears and opened the book to the cover page, pushing her oval glasses up on the bridge of her nose. She was able to read the title, Amestris: Advanced Alchemy, and it only made her more interested. She couldn't read who had written the book, and for her report, that might be a problem. However, at this point, Rayven had completely forgotten about the report she was supposed to do for school.

When Rayven found a good or interesting, she became so absorbed completely forgot everything else. She turned to the first page, eyes running over the faded letters. She shifted in the chair, settling in for a long read. Her focus was soon totally absorbed. And as timed passed, the furrows in her brow grew deeper and deeper. The way the book went on, it was talking about alchemy as if it were a practical concept, and it seemed as if this were a volume that instructed people on how to actually _use_ alchemy! Not only that, but used in a physical way, instead of simply with mixing chemicals. Rayven's eyes grew wider and wider.

She turned the page quickly, and found herself looking at an odd, circular diagram. It was massively complicated, words that she couldn't understand woven in and out of the design. Slowly, she reached out, touching the diagram with both hands. She was enveloped by golden light that swallowed her scream and wrapped her in silence.

000

_Rayven… Rayven… Rayven…_

Someone was calling, calling out her name and beckoning to her; she was being pulled by something. It felt as if there were hands around her, tugging at her body and slowly pulling her away from something warm and comforting. Rayven struggled, but her limbs and body felt as heavy as lead. She couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed; all she could see was blackness. Fear and panic made her throat dry and her body shiver. She twisted her head from side to side, trying to see something, _anything_. Abruptly, a figure appeared in the darkness. It was separate, and yet a part of the complete and total blackness that surrounded Rayven, androgynous and without gender

She couldn't make out any facial features, only shadows where nose, eyes, and mouth should have been. What seemed to be the figure's mouth opened, revealing only darker blackness. When it spoke, the figure's voice sounded as if thousands of people were speaking at once, as if they were all addressing her with calm, resonant voices. "Ah, so you are the Key," the figure said, taking silent steps forward until it stood before her. It was head and shoulders taller than the young woman, and she found herself trembling as she stared up into the featureless face. "You are not as strong as the last, but you will survive."

"Wha-what are you talking about?" Rayven managed, voice nothing more than a rasping whisper.

"The last Key to Immortality," the shadow said, as if explaining some simple concept to a child. "You don't seem as strong as the last one, but you'll do." Rayven continued to stare with wide eyes. "Ah, I suppose I should explain things to you. You see, you contain a power that can grant immortality using the energy of the Philosopher's Stone. You are going to do this once the Stone is created. For now, you are going to have to survive in a world that is not your own. Good luck, little one."

000

Greed lifted his eyes, stars reflecting in the piercing amethyst depths. He blinked slowly, lost in thought. He had felt something strange stirring recently, and it frustrated him that he couldn't name what it was. His desire to be in constant control did have its downside, after all. His left hand touched the box of cigarettes in his vest pocket, contemplating a smoke. However, something stopped him. In an alley not far off, there was a flash of light, and then a scream of pain like that of a wild animal.

000

All Rayven could see was blood. All she could feel was agony. The right sleeve of her hoodie hung empty and soaked in blood at her side. She was slumped on the ground, writhing in pain. She screamed again and again, searing, burning pain filling her body. Her left hand flew to her shoulder, clutching at the bloody stump where her right arm had been. She screamed even louder with the realization; her right arm was gone. Her mind whirled and reeled in panic, nerves overloaded in pain. She twisted on the ground, staining her clothes with dirt and her own blood. _"Please!"_ the coherent part of her mind cried. _"Someone! Help me! HELP ME!"_

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. She managed to turn her head, and saw someone standing in the mouth of the alley. Rayven's glasses had fallen away, and her eyes were blurred with tears; she couldn't make out any defining features. She pleaded with the person with wordless cries, begging in her agony for any kind of help. Finally, she managed to get out a single, rasping word. "Please!" she whimpered. Then, the pain overtook her, and darkness claimed Rayven once again.

000

For an instant, Greed stared in surprise at the sight before him. The young woman's right shoulder bled heavily, soaking the gray, hooded jacket that she wore with crimson. Her face was pale with blood-loss and pain, her movements jerky. A pair of glasses was beside her on the ground, and she gazed up at him with wide, frightened green eyes. Her throat rasped as she tried to speak, finally getting out the word, "please!" Her cry was so small and pleading, and her beautiful, round face was contorted with fear and pain.

Then the woman collapsed, taken by merciful unconsciousness. Greed moved forward without another moment of hesitation. He scooped the woman up in his lean arms, and grabbed up the bag that she had had slung over her shoulder, as well as the glasses that were obviously hers. Using one arm, Greed pressed the woman's bloody sleeve against what was left of her right arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Then he was on the rooftops, leaping quickly in the direction of his hideout, the bar known as the Devil's Nest. The part of Greed's mind that was not concentrated on the bleeding young woman in his arms wondered exactly _why_ he was doing this. The woman wasn't one of his followers, the Chimeras that he had freed from Lab Five, nor was she someone that he knew. There was no reason that to help her. But now that he had picked her up, he couldn't exactly drop her. Shaking his head to clear it, he sped up, moving as quickly as he could; the girl had already lost a lot of blood.

Then, an idea occurred to the Homunculus. If he could convince the girl to help him, she could be useful to his plans. She would need a replacement limb; automail—a prosthetic made entirely of metal—would be best. Greed thought of the fox Chimera, Ara; she had been an automail mechanic before she joined the army, and then been turned into a Chimera. If Greed got the woman to Ara quickly, Ara could fit the woman with a prosthetic that could be used. His mind made up, he continued on his way.

000

Martel, the snake Chimera, Ara, the fox Chimera, and the ex-State Alchemist, Zolf J. Kimblee were the only ones in the bar when Greed burst in, a very bloody young woman in his arms. Martel and Ara were on their feet in an instant, hurrying over to their leader. Kimblee stayed where he was. It was Ara who spoke. "Greed, who—?" she began, but Greed cut her off.

"Ara, fit this girl with automail," their leader instructed, handing the young woman over to the tall, crimson-eyed fox Chimera, "now." Ara looked at him, and then at the young woman in her own arms. She said nothing, only nodding as she whirled around and fled the bar, vanishing down into the maze of underground hallways and rooms that hid Greed and the Chimeras from those who might do them harm. Greed sighed, walking over to the bar and sitting down on a stool. "Damn, what a night," he muttered. His own clothes were stained with blood, but he paid not attention. Kimblee, who stood behind the bar, poured a whiskey, and handed it over to the Homunculus.

"Who is she?" the alchemist asked.

Greed shrugged. "Dunno," he supplied. "She asked for help, and I couldn't just let a pretty girl like that die."

Martel snorted as she took up a seat on a stool beside her boss. "Leave it to you to give an answer like that," she said with a wry smile. Then she gestured at his bloody clothes. "You should do something about that," she said. "You can't just go running around covered in blood. You'll catch attention." Greed looked at Martel with a raised brow. "Or, more attention than usual," Martel amended. He smirked into his drink, the ice cubes clicking together in the amber liquid.

000

Ara stripped the girl's torso down to her black sports bra, tossing the bloody clothes aside in a pile next to her bag and glasses. She quickly bound the girl's arm after cleaning away most of the blood. It looked as if the girl's arm had been cut away about seven inches down the shoulder. But, oddly, all the edge was perfectly straight, as if cut by a single swipe of a razor-sharp blade. She frowned as she measured the girl's arm and picked out the automail parts that she would need. Glancing at the girl, Ara gave a sad smile. "You're lucky that you're unconscious, kid," she murmured. "Connecting nerves to wires is not a pleasant process to endure."

000

Greed wandered into the room as Ara was washing the blood from her hands. She glanced up, and found herself looking at a shirtless Greed leaning against the doorframe. He eyed the still unconscious young woman, eyes focusing on the automail limb that had taken the place of her right arm. He knew there would be trouble when she woke up, and he sighed. He walked forward and picked up her bloody clothes. They were wet, and the blood wasn't as thick on the fabric as it had been, suggesting that Ara had tried to wash them. Greed decided to throw the girl's clothes in with his own; the Chimera washing his clothes was quite adept at getting out blood and other stains. Giving the girl once last look, Greed walked back towards the door.

Ara's voice stopped him. "Hey, Greed," she said, "I think you should see this." Greed turned to see Ara holding up a worn blue book, the faded cover spotted with blood. "This was in her bag," Ara said. "It's a book of advanced alchemy."

His eyes narrowed. He walked forward and took the book from Ara's hands. He opened it, and flipped through the pages. "What's someone like her doing with a book like this?" he muttered, half to himself. Then, something in the book caught his eye. He spread the page out, looking closely at it.

A jolt went through the Homunculus as he recognized the diagram; the transmutation circle. Shoving the book back into Ara's hands, Greed strode over to the girl's side. He reached out and grabbed her left hand, pulling it to him. "Damn," he breathed, gazing at the girl's palm, "it really is."

Etched onto the smooth skin of he girl's palm was the same transmutation circle that he had just been looking at in the book. The complicated design was hard to read on the her skin, but Greed knew it all the same. "The Key to Immortality," Greed murmured, a note of awe in his voice. Then, his eyes lit up, burning with ambition and excitement. Ara had never seen that look in her leader's eyes, and it sent a small tremble of fear through her body.

000

Rayven's eyelids fluttered, and she squinted against the light that shown red through her eyelids. She was lying on something soft, and some kind blanket was pulled up to her waist. There was something cold pressing against her right side, and there was a dull ache in her right shoulder. Her right shoulder… Rayven's eyes snapped open, memories flooding back.

000

Greed leaned against the wall of the small room where the as of yet nameless young woman had been placed. A single mattress was set in the upper right-hand corner of the small, twelve-by-twelve-foot room. A lamp hung from the ceiling, casting a yellowish orb of light. He stood at the foot of the young woman's bed, one leg bent and foot pressed up against the wall. Occasionally, he would glance down at the woman. She had shifted from unconsciousness to sleep, and her chest rose and fell regularly. Greed walked over and squatted down on the balls of his feet, eying the girl over the rims of his small, round sunglasses. He rested his elbows on his knees, leanly muscled arms extending outward.

Now that Greed could get a proper look at her, he found that the young woman was quite pretty. She had a round face, with a delicate chin. Her shapely nose was straight and dusted with freckles that were repeated on her pink cheeks. Her eyelashes were long and dark, her dark eyebrows gently arched over large eyes that Greed remembered as a deep, emerald green. Her skin was pale, though not in an unhealthy way. Her clothes had been washed—there were no longer any traces of blood—and she was wearing her blue top, the right sleeve rolled up to the elbow, exposing the automail that Ara had constructed.

Greed couldn't help but admire the Chimera's work; she had an automail leg of her own, and always kept it in peak condition. Of course, this wasn't the final piece of work, more bare bones functional than anything. Ara had had only minimal materials to work with, and so newer pieces would be needed to make better, more professional end result. It would be expensive, but for Greed, that wouldn't be a problem

Then, without warning, the young woman sat bolt upright, eyes wide. She saw Greed, and cried out in fear. She scrambled backwards on the mattress until her back came up against the wall. Her wide green eyes glanced down at her right arm, and all color drained from her face. She pushed herself to the edge of mattress and vomited, body trembling and shaking. Greed moved to her side and held her hair from her face as she threw up again. Her body was taken by dry heaves for several moments before she recovered. Greed eased her back onto the mattress, keeping his eyes on her pale, drawn face.

000

Rayven couldn't get her mind to focus on anything after she had emptied her stomach onto the floor. She looked through blurry eyes at the man who had held back her hair, waiting for her emotions to come. She could feel only confusion, and even as she tried to grip at memories, they slipped through her fingers like water. Everything was numb, the feelings she'd had an instant ago gone.

As she stared at the man, he spoke, voice smooth and yet somehow rough at the same time. "You okay, doll?" he asked. He knew she wouldn't be okay for a while; she would be in severe pain, and very likely traumatized, but he had asked anyway.

Her mind was swept clean by the man's voice. Her eyes went wide in fear, and her body went tight. She shoved herself up and away from the wall, scrambling from the mattress and out into the middle of the room. She whirled around to stare at the man, her vision blurry without her glasses. Her feet were bare on a cold, concrete floor, and her body shook. Her eyes flew from side to side, seeing the doorway that led out into a hallway.

She made a dash for the doorway, but the man was before her in an instant. He gripped her shoulders firmly, looking down into her eyes. This close, Rayven could see that the man's eyes were a sharp piercing amethyst, the pupils silted. Skills that she hadn't used in years flooded back to her, and she grabbed the man by the shoulders and brought her knee up. She yanked him down and slammed his chest into her knee, driving the air from his lungs and making him release her.

In the blink of an eye, she had pushed past him and out into the hallway. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, pumping adrenaline into her body. She turned to the left and started running, mindless of the rough floor that hurt her feet. She ran as fast as she could, skidding around a corner. She let out a cry of surprise as a woman met her. Rayven noticed only the woman's short, sandy hair before she lunged forward, trying to skirt around her.

"Martel! Stop her!" someone yelled.

The woman reacted with inhuman speed, her arms reaching out and catching Rayven around the waist. She kicked and struggled, beating at the woman as she was pulled up against her chest. Grunting against Rayven's blows, the woman turned the girl around to face her, and pinned her arms to her sides, holding her in an iron grip. Tears bloomed in Rayven's eyes as she struggled. "Let me go!" she whimpered. "Please, let me go!"

When the woman spoke, her tone was kind. "Hey, easy there," she murmured. "We aren't going to hurt you. It's okay." Rayven hiccupped, craning her neck around to look up into the woman's eyes. There was kindness in the olive green depths, and the woman gave a half smile when she looked up at her. "I'm not going to hurt you, okay? You were badly hurt, but Ara fixed you up. You're gonna be alright." Gently, the woman released her, instead putting her hands gently on Rayven's shoulders. "Look, you're free, see? I know you're scared, believe me, I know. But I need you to calm down." Rayven took several deep breaths and nodded, though there was still fear in her eyes. "My name is Martel. What's yours?"

The young woman had to swallow twice before answering. "R-Rayven," she said softly, biting her bottom lip. "Rayven Bek."

"Rayven?" a man's voice said from behind Rayven. "Nice name." Rayven gasped and whirled around. She found herself looking at the fuzzy shape of the man from before. She bit her lip and tried to keep herself from shaking. The man walked forward, and held out his hand. Rayven couldn't help a sigh of relief when she saw that he was holding her glasses. With a murmur of thanks, Rayven took her glasses and put them on.

Past the smudges on the lenses, Rayven saw a very odd man standing before her. His features were hard and angular, though not unattractive. A strange red mark adorned the back of his left hand. He was tall, his close-cropped hair dark brown. He was clad in a sleeveless navy shirt and a black vest with a light gray fur collar. He also wore a pair of green-black leather pants and strange boots that curved slightly upward at the toe.

There were leather bracelets wrapped around his left wrist, the adornments only bringing Rayven's attention back to the odd mark on the back of his hand. It was a red serpent, curved around in a circle, making to devour its own tail. There were wings above it, and a six-pointed star made up of two triangles within the circle the serpent's body made. Rayven finally recognized the symbol. "An Oroborus…" she murmured, voice hardly a whisper. She looked back up at the man, who was now regarding her from behind circular sunglasses that she hadn't noticed before.

"The name's Greed," the man said, giving Rayven a nod. "Sorry if I scared you, doll." She bit her lip, lowering her head, muttering something that sounded like an apology. Greed blinked. He reached out, taking Rayven's chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently lifting her face up to his. "Hey, now," he said, giving her a roguish smile, "there's no need for that."

Rayven felt her cheeks blush as she looked up into Greed's face. He wasn't _that_ much taller than her, and he did seem an attractive man, now that she really looked at him. And that grin; it made Rayven's heart beat a little faster and made her cheeks darken. She offered him a small smile. "I'm sorry, I just don't understand, and I'm…" She trailed off; the last thing she wanted was to admit to being scared. Her brows furrowed and she bit her lip, looking away. Finally, swallowing her pride, Rayven continued. "I'm scared. My arm, it—"

She broke off and looked down, her stomach tightening as she saw the metal limb that protruded from her sleeve. Slowly, she took hold of the loose sleeve of her faded blue shirt and pulled it up. Her knees almost buckled when she saw the place where the prosthetic was clamped onto her skin. Healing stitches and swollen stripes of skin peeked out from beneath the cold, gray metal that was attached to her shoulder. Rayven touched the metal with trembling fingers. "It's so cold," she whispered, looking up at Greed with wide, frightened eyes.

"It's automail," Greed explained. "I found you in an alley with your arm… missing." He grimaced as the color drained from Rayven's face. "Don't you know what happened? How you lost your arm?"

Rayven put her hand to her head, running metal fingers through her dark brown hair. "It was black, and there was some kind of… figure. It called me 'Key', and said to be what it made me to be. I don't understand any of this." She looked imploringly up at Greed. "What's going on?"

Greed grimaced and looked away. "If that mark I saw is what I think it is, then you've been brought here from another world."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Rayven stared at Greed for several moments. "Wait, you can't be serious," she said, voice rising an octave. "Another world? Come on, you've gotta be kidding me!" She looked over her shoulder at Martel. "He's kidding isn't he?" she said, a note of panic in her voice; she was pleading for a 'yes'. Martel only shrugged and looked away. Rayven looked quickly back to Greed. She stepped forward, searching his face. "You've got to be kidding me! There's no such—!"

"Do you know what a Homunculus is?" Greed asked abruptly, his eyes catching the girl's in a stare that she couldn't look away from. "A Chimera? Alchemy?"

Rayven blinked. "What are you talking about?" she said, frustration in her voice. "A Chimera is a monster that—"

"We're not monsters!" Martel suddenly yelled. Rayven whirled and took a step back, bringing herself closer to Greed. Anger burned in Martel's eyes as she stared at the young woman. But there was also sadness behind the anger. There was the deep agony of a wound buried deep within Martel's heart and hidden from the eyes of others. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "We are _not_ monsters," she growled, teeth clenched. "We're people just like you! We may not be completely human, but we're not monsters!"

Her harsh words rang in Rayven's ears; the tone of her voice and the genuine emotion in her voice and olive green eyes touched something in her. She could feel the anger and pain in Martel; she could feel it as if it were her own pain. Tears welled in her own green eyes, and she bit her lip until it bled. She lowered her head in shame, squeezing her eyes shut. A tear escaped to splash on the inside of her glasses. Her shoulders started to shake, and when she spoke it was in a quivering whisper. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't… I didn't know that…" She trailed off, slowly lifting her face to look hesitantly at Martel. "I'm sorry, but it's so hard to—never mind, you've a right to be mad at me." Rayven's voice was quiet and shaking, with no trace of the confusion and frustration that had been so plain in her voice before.

Greed reached out and touched Rayven's shoulder; she jumped slightly, looking over her shoulder to meet his eyes. "In this world, Chimeras are created when two beings are fused on a genetic level by alchemy." He nodded past Rayven at Martel. "Martel and the others, well, it's not my story to tell, doll." He pulled his hand away and took a step back. "I hope that this can prove to you that I'm telling the truth. Things'll go easier if you believe us." Without another word, Greed shed the vest that he had been wearing, tossing his sunglasses down with it.

And then, as she watched, he began to change; to transform. Something dark—the deepest navy blue—crept over his body. His shirt seemed to meld into the skin, the garment with its red lines becoming a part of him. His hands became vicious claws, his eyes a demonic red, and his teeth white, pointed fangs. Greed let his eyes wanted over Rayven, taking in her wide eyes and trembling body. He sighed, looking away from her. "If anything is a monster, it's me. I'm a Homunculus," he said, voice altered by his transformation. He now spoke in a deeper, harsher tone, two voices melding into one. "I can rearrange the carbon bonds in my body to create this shield."

She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry. She wanted to turn and run as far and as fast as she could. She was terrified of Greed, of what he had changed into. But she couldn't run. Her legs abruptly lost all strength, and she fell to her knees with a whimper. She squeezed her eyes shut and hid her face in her hands, hunching over in a ball to make herself as small as possible. Raw emotion coursed through her, making her gasp and cry out. Her body shook with sobs that echoed off the walls, tears coating the insides of her glasses.

Slowly, Greed's shield melted away, and he knelt down on his knees. He reached out and took Rayven gently by the wrists. Ignoring her whimpered protests, he pulled her upright before bringing her hands away from her face. He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, catching her eyes in a gaze that wouldn't let her go. "Listen to me, Rayven," he said, voice calm and firm. "I'm the first to say that I'm not all that good at being nice. I know that you're scared. You can call me a monster; I won't blame you. But you have to understand; there are other people, other monsters, who would do anything to get a hold of you. You have a power that they want, and they'll kill to get it. Or to destroy it."

Rayven's face lost all color, and she choked on a sob. Greed took hold of her shoulders, keeping his eyes fixed on her own. "If you stay with us, you'll be okay. We aren't exactly what you'd call the 'good guys', but we won't hurt you; they will. No one here will hurt you, Rayven. Do you hear me?" She managed to nod shakily. "Good. I know you're scared, but you have to stay here. You need to listen to me."

Rayven swallowed, then nodded again. "O-okay," she whispered.

Greed nodded, offering a smile. "Good girl."

Rayven then turned to Martel, a shamed look on her face. "I sh-shouldn't have s-said that," she murmured, avoiding Martel's eyes. "I had n-no right to c-call you a monster." She lowered her head, her shoulders shaking. Then, another shudder ran through her, and she collapsed. Martel made a sound of alarm, but Greed held up a hand.

"It's okay," he murmured. He reached out and scooped Rayven up into his arms, holding her limp body easily against his chest. "She's still tired. Remember, she lost a lot of blood." Greed turned back down the hall, calling over his shoulder, "I'll need to talk to Dorochet and Roa soon. Gather them for me, would ya?"

000

In Rayven's dream, she was watching a young man with golden hair and eyes. He sat at a window, gazing out over a landscape that Rayven could not see. Then he looked over, seeming to gaze directly into Rayven's eyes. When he spoke, his voice was sad. "All I really want it to help my brother."

Then the dream shifted, and Rayven was staring into the cold eyes of a man in a blue uniform. He was holding a cloth bag in his hand, and a gun in the other. The gun was pointed at Rayven. Somehow, the bag that the man held was of great importance to Rayven, and she had to get it away from the man at all costs. She lunged. She heard the gun fire, and felt something thud into her left thigh. She'd been shot. Numb to the pain, she kept going. Then she was in a large room, running at a figure with a blade in their hand. Then someone came between Rayven and the figure, standing before her with arms held out to either side.

A blade, crimson with blood, spurted from the person's back, the blood spattering her face. And then…

000

Rayven woke up. She sat bolt upright, her body covered in a cold sweat. Her hair clung to her forehead, and her vision was blurred without her glasses. With a shuddering sigh, she fell back, covering her face with her hands. When cool metal touched her chilled face, she flinched and pulled her right hand back. She stared at the limb, chewing on her bottom lip. She couldn't feel anything with the limb. She couldn't feel anything when she sat up and pulled away the blanket. She couldn't feel anything when she ran her hand over her face and her fingers through her hair. When she saw her glasses, Rayven put them on.

Her vision clear, She looked around. She was back in the same room as before, but this time she was alone. Her vomit had been cleaned, and now her messenger bag was set beside the mattress. Rayven pulled the bag before her, lifting the flap and unzipping the bag. Her hand delved inside and pulled out her wallet. It was a simple leather wallet, holding a few dollars, her student ID, her library card, and a folded up picture of her ex-boyfriend. Rayven drew out the photo, unfolding it. Seth's sparkling gray eyes stared back at her, his tousled brown hair sticking up in all directions. He was smiling, laughing at some forgotten joke. A sad smile curving her lips, Rayven turned the picture over to read the faded writing on the back. _"To my little muse. Love, Seth."_

Tears bloomed in Rayven's eyes. She gently touched Seth's face. "Why'd you have to go and die on me?" she murmured. "I really loved you, you know. You big lunkhead." She stuck her left hand underneath her glasses and rubbed the tears away. She folded the picture up and put it back in her wallet. SHe slid the wallet back into her bag before closing it up and slinging the strap over one shoulder. Again, she ran her fingers through her hair. "Fucking hell," she breathed, hanging her head. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"Could be worse, you know," said a familiar male voice. Rayven looked up to find Greed leaning in the doorway.

She gave him a bitter smile. "Yeah, I guess. I suppose I could be dead."

Greed made a face, scratching the back of his head as he walked into the room. "Sorry, babe," he offered. "Comforting isn't really my thing."

She shrugged, a passive look on her face. "It's okay." With another sigh, she rose to her feet, keeping her bag's strap over her shoulder. "I used to be the same way."

Greed tilted his head to the side. "Used to be?" he questioned.

"I kept to myself mostly," she said with a shrug. "I didn't really know how to act around people outside my family, so I was really awkward. If someone was crying, I wouldn't know what to do. It was hard to make friends."

"What made you change?" Greed asked as she came close to the doorway.

Rayven gave Greed a puzzled look, furrowing her brow and tilting her head to the side. "You ask a lot of questions, you know that?"

The Homunculus gave Rayven the look version of a shrug. "I like to know things about my guests. I'd be an idiot if I let someone dangerous into the middle of this group. They'd get themselves killed."

Rayven eyed Greed in mild awe. "Are the… Chimeras," Rayven stumbled on the word, "really that strong? You describe them like super-humans."

"Well, that's what they are, I suppose," Greed said with a shrug. "Ara, a fox, has fangs and claws, as well as mild regenerative powers. Martel, a snake, is really flexible and can stretch out her arms; legs too, I think. There's Dorochet, a dog, he has a wicked sense of smell and is one of the fastest Chimeras here. There's also Roa. He's a bull Chimera. Needless to say, he's very strong. He can transform himself to a mild degree when he wants to."

"How—how did they become Chimeras?" Rayven asked, voice quiet.

"I told you before, doll," Greed said, looking away. "It's not my story to tell."

Rayven nodded, shrugging. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." She cast her eyes to the side, rubbing her left arm. "I really hurt Martel when I said that, didn't I?" She ran her fingers through her hair. "Dammit. I'm still an idiot in social situations."

Greed made no response, and he and Rayven walked in silence along the hallway. They stopped several minutes later before an open door way. She could hear voices speaking inside the room, and she paused, chewing on the inside of her cheek. He stopped before the doorway, turning to face the young woman. "Everyone's inside," he said. "It's time for introductions." Rayven's brows furrowed and she looked away. Greed's lips quirked in a frown for a moment. "Hey, you've gotta meet them," he said.

"I know," Rayven murmured. "I just…" He moved closer, putting a hand on Her shoulder. She looked up at him; the touch was oddly comforting, and she found herself able to continue. "Everything is moving so fast, and there's so much happening to me. I don't—I can't really deal with this."

"It's hard for you, I know," Greed murmured, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. "But you're gonna have to learn to deal. This isn't as bad as things are going to get."

Rayven tensed, suddenly jerking away. "I—I can't!" she said quickly, hugging her arms around herself. "I can't do this right now, I need to be outside!" She squeezed her eyes shut. "Outside… please!" she whimpered. Her breathing became labored and wheezing.

Greed could see her shaking, and easily grasped her desperation. He put an arm around her shoulder, directing her away from the room, calling something over his shoulder that Rayven didn't hear. She could only move her feet as he directed her through a maze of hallways, eventually up some stairs, through a smoky room, and then outside. She found herself picked up in a pair of strong arms, and being carried swiftly. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling air rush past her. Then she was on grass, the smell of earth and sky in her nose. She let herself break down; sobbing as she pulled off her glasses and pressed her face against the ground.

"Th-thank you," she managed through her tears as she felt Greed's gaze on her. _'He thinks that I'm weak,'_ she thought, flinching in disgust at herself. She hated that. She hated being thought of as weak. She wasn't! "I'm not weak!" she abruptly cried. "I'm not a coward! I'm not weak!" She opened her eyes, shooting to her feet. Greed's face was blurred as she looked at him without her glasses. Her mind turned his expression into one of disgust. "I'm not a wimp, not a coward!" she shouted at him, hands clenched into fists. She turned and ran then, bare feet getting scraped to bleeding as she was suddenly on concrete.

Buildings flashed past as she ran, blinded by tears. She didn't stop when she collided with civilians, just wanting to get away. She couldn't be in a different world! It wasn't possible. It had to be a dream! _'Wake up!'_ her mind screamed at her. _'Wake up, dammit! Please, wake up!'_ But she could only keep running, going purely on adrenaline and anguish.

Lightning flashed overhead, thunder close on its heels. Rayven ignored it, she kept running, even as the sky broke open and rain began to pour down. She just had to get away; to run. She was soon soaked through to the skin, her scent washed away. She turned and collapsed into an alley, hunching over with her back against the wall and her legs folded up against her chest and her face hidden in her knees. She sobbed quietly there, tears invisible in the rain.

She couldn't keep going like this; she couldn't do this. She ripped off her right sleeve, tearing at the fabric until the place where automail met flesh was exposed. Pain suddenly attacked her, the pain of a new limb. She cried out, oblivious of those around her. The logical part of her mind reasoned that it was only natural, with a metal limb bolted onto flesh and bone. But the rest of her mind was anything but logical. "Get off!" she whimpered. She began to claw at the metal where it was connected to her, drawing blood. "Get off, get off, get off!" Tears streamed down her cheeks in the rain, her fingernails scraping skin and blood as she sought to tear away the evidence of what was happening to her.

"What do we have here, boys?" a low voice said, breaking Rayven from her trance. She still didn't feel the pain, but she was still shaking and trembling. Her blurry vision let her see at least three figures, all clad in dark tones. They stood at the mouth of the alley, their heads turned towards Rayven. She couldn't clearly read their expressions, but she was scared now. "What's yer name, pretty?" the same voice said, the middle of the three stepping forward.

Rayven shot to her feet and scrambled backwards, stumbling over garbage and cutting her foot on broken glass. She cried out, falling again. "G-go… go away!" she cried feebly.

"Hey, I only wanna help you," the man said, a smirk on his face that did nothing to assure Rayven of his words. He frowned at her wounds. "Now why would you do this to yerself, pretty?" he said, reaching out.

"C'mon, Sento, just grab the girl already," another, slightly annoyed voice said.

The man closest to Rayven, Sento, looked over his shoulder and sighed. "Yeah, yeah, keep it in yer pants, Maro." Then he looked back and grabbed Rayven. He yanked her to her feet and slammed her into the wall, covering her mouth against her scream. "Shut up, cunt," he hissed. "You just gotta take it like a good little whore and we might not come inside ya." They all snickered as her eyes went wide and she bucked against his hold. "She's cute, ain't she?"

Inside the brunette's mind, something snapped. Something inside Rayven simply broke. Information roared up within her, filling her body and making it act. Her knee came up and slammed into the man's groin, and then her metal fist slammed into his chest, forcing him away form her. Her body was acting on knowledge that it had never had before, and Rayven felt like only an observer, watching someone else controlling her body with invisible strings. Her face was blank as she yanked the man up and punched him hard in the face with her automail hand, sending jarring pain up to her shoulder. Then she shoved him away, his body tumbling on the ground.

At the yells of Sento's companions, Rayven whirled, her hair flying around her face. They came at her, one holding a knife. Rayven grabbed the hand holding the weapon in a crushing grip, her leg coming up and kicking the man between the legs before she yanked him forward and punched him in the face. However, as the man fell, he used the knife to cut a gash down Rayven's chest. The pain woke her from whatever trance she had been in, and she staggered back. Her eyes were wide as she looked around, and fell on the final man. Fear flared in her eyes, and she fell backwards.

"Little bitch…" the man growled. He advanced on her, a hand reaching out.

"NO!" Rayven's cry was the last thing the man heard before unconsciousness took him. The hands that Rayven had raised to protect herself slowly lowered, and she looked up to see Greed's form standing over the crumpled one of the man.

Frowning deeply, Greed walked over the body and reached down, pulling the girl to her feet. "Just what the hell were you doing, doll?" he muttered, looking at her bleeding skin and the wound from the knife. He had not seen her taking out the other two, and his attention was focused on the female that would bring him immortality. Any damage done to her was damage done to his goal. He would not allow that.

Whimpering, Rayven fell on Greed without warning, her hands grabbing onto his vest and her face hiding in his chest. She was crying again, sobbing so hard that her shoulders were shaking. She wanted this man to save her, whoever he was. She needed someone to save her from this nightmare.

The Homunculus' eyes widened as the girl pressed herself to him. What was she doing? Was she looking for comfort? What did he do? Greed did not know how to comfort. He was only a being of want and desire. Looking down at her, he lifted her face up to his. She was so pretty, with a well shaped face and lips; such pretty lips… He dipped his head and kissed her, hand moving around to the back of her head. This was the only comfort that he could give. He tilted her head and deepened the kiss, feeling her respond. Rayven pressed into the warmth offered to her. Anything to chase away her fear and the throbbing pain in her arm. She felt his tongue questing entrance and she gave it to him, parting her lips and pressing back with her own tongue. He tasted of cigarettes and whiskey…

_'No!' _ Rayven jerked away from Greed, shaking her head. This wasn't what she wanted. "St-stop…" She shook her head from side to side, crying again.

Greed's hand only snapped out, pulling her back to him. He sighed, folding an arm over her back as the other tucked her head under his chin. He didn't say sorry, as he didn't have much practice in that particular area either. He just held the girl to his body in the rain. Then he lifted her up, one arm going under her knees. He ignored her initial struggling, carrying her back out into the rain. Rayven soon quieted, and she let out a heavy breath, her head leaning against his chest. Tears still lost in the rain as her hand gripped the wet ruff of his shirt. She felt him leap, and a little gasp escaped her as she found herself suddenly on the rooftop of the building that had made up one of the walls of the alley.

Then the pain hit. The pain of the automail and her injuries all came roaring up inside her all over again. It twisted into a hot ball of writhing agony before it shot up her throat to her mouth. Greed's hand clamped over her lips as she let out a scream, her back arching in pain. She looked up at him with wide eyes, panting as she bled. "H-help me…" she begged. She was terrified, everything not just coming down around her but coming directly _at_ her. And inside the storm of flotsam and jetsam, this one man was standing steady. He was strong and he was opening his arms to her, offering shelter. "Please… Save me…" She dissolved into sobs, mindless as Greed hurried back home.

When he was downstairs, he took her instead to his room. She could get a nice hot shower with that waterproof automail of hers. But first, the wound. He grabbed a kit and set her on the floor on top of a fluffy towel. With firm eyes he stripped away her shirt and her ruined bra. She was so lost in her pain and fear that Rayven didn't even blush as her ample chest was bared.

Though she was stained with blood and pale with chill, Greed couldn't help but spare half a moment to admire the lovely curves. This was the kind of body he wouldn't mind sinking into. But now was not the time. "This's gonna hurt," he muttered. "You need stitches." He got only a whimper and a nod in response. She was in so much pain it was doubtful that a few pricks more would do much to her. He took out a curved needle, sterilizing it, and then the suture silk. He set about stitching up the knife wound, his anger at the attack plain on his face. This girl was _his_, dammit! Anyone who touched what was his without his permission got hurt; badly.

Rayven closed her eyes, her head hung over and her dark hair hiding her face in a wet curtain. She hardly registered the pain as the needle pieced her over and over, pulling the thread between the flaps of cut skin. She was trembling, hot tears coursing down the sides of her face and her nose running. She could barely see straight, and she clenched her teeth. "God… help me…"

Greed looked to her face, and shook his head as he continued working. "There ain't a god to help you, doll," he murmured. "You gotta do that yourself." He had stitched up his fair share of wounds before, so it didn't take him too terribly long. He then turned his attention to where she had clawed up her own skin. He shook his head and grimaced, annoyed with the stupidity. He patched her up as best he could, then sat back on his heels, looking down at her. "Doll…"

Rayven whimpered, and pushed herself into a sitting position with her left arm. She hunched over, then reached out, grabbing his wrist. "You're my straw…" she breathed, face pale and a sweat starting to develop over her.

"What?" He raised his brows slightly.

"I'm lost 'n th' ocean and I'm graspin' at straws…" she said, pulling herself closer and resting her forehead on his shoulder. "You're all that there was to grab, and you're keepin' me from drowning…" Greed knew desperation well, and this woman was a perfect example of it. She was grabbing onto the closest thing and holding tight. "Don' let me go…" Her voice was so weak, and so pitiful, even a sonuvabitch like Greed couldn't help but feel some kind of sorry for her. Feeling rather awkward, he pulled her into his arms and held her. His hold was loose and he stared down at Rayven as she collapsed her full weight against him, grabbing onto his vest and sobbing into him.

She didn't seem to notice the stiffness of his embrace, or that he was still wet from the rain, and just clung to him as if he were the only thing in the world with the power to keep her sane. Greed could feel her tears against his already soaked shirt, as well as her gasping breath. He sighed, and sat back, letting Rayven pull herself into his lap. He guessed that she just needed to cry. He'd been around long enough to know that women sometimes needed a good cry to sort themselves out. And while he knew a cry wouldn't be enough to make everything better for her, he just sat back and let her cling to him and cry like a child.

He wasn't sure exactly how long he sat there with her, but eventually, Rayven went quiet, sniffling and beginning to wipe at her eyes. Then she winced, the pain still throbbing in her shoulder and burning in her chest. "H-hurts," she whimpered through clenched teeth. She looked up at Greed, staring into his eyes. Her own were dazed and watery, and he could tell that she wasn't all there. She surprised him by reaching up and touching his cheek with her left hand, peering at him with furrowed brows. "Such… pretty eyes." She gave a ghost of a smile then her face contorted again. "Sonuvabitch…"

Greed frowned, picking her up and standing. He lay her down on the couch set against the left wall of his room, her head propped up on one of the pillows. "Stay there, babe," he said, standing up. "I'll get ya something for the pain." She sniffled and nodded, curling up into a little ball and cradling her right arm. He stood and frowned again, looking around his room. Then something caught his eye. _'Well, it ain't perfect, but it'll have to do for now…'_

Rayven looked up when she felt Greed crouching down in front of her. He was holding a glass of some kind of amber liquid before her. He pushed it closer, insisting that she drink. "All of it now," he instructed. "Don't stop 'til it's all gone. And don't waste it." Mind still hazy, she took the half full glass without question. She put it to her lips and took a gulp…

And promptly spat out the absinth, her mouth burning.

"Hey…" Greed frowned, looking down at the spray of the good alcohol on his front, then up at the coughing girl. "We'll try one more time," he said. He grabbed her chin, and made her look at him. "Look, this'll help with the pain for now, doll." She stared at him as if he were mad. Sighing, he let go and sat back on his heels, staring at her with lidded eyes. "Fine then." He threw his head back and pulled the alcohol into his mouth. Then he leaned down and kissed Rayven full on the lips. She froze in surprise, and he took advantage of her slightly open mouth to force her to drink down the rest of the whiskey.

She was too weak to really fight back, and she grudgingly swallowed, her throat burning all the more. When he was sure she wasn't going to spit it back up, Greed pulled away, licking his lips. Rayven coughed and spluttered, her eyes watering. She muttered something under her breath, curling up. She was shaking all over again; she needed to sleep some more. She groaned softly, burying her face in the couch. "Tasted disgusting…"

Greed scoffed, getting to his feet. _'She's got no taste…'_ he thought to himself. He was about to turn away, when he realized that even without a shirt, Rayven's pants were soaked and she was going to leave a wet spot on his couch. He moved back to her, and urged her into a sitting position. "Gotta stay awake for a second, doll," he told her. "Ya need some dry clothes."

Too tired to comprehend the concept of modesty, the woman simply nodded, sitting there with bleary eyes. Greed couldn't help but take in the full curves of her breasts and waist, but eventually tore himself away. "I'll be back." He took one last look before he left his room, closing the door behind him. "Dorochet!" he called down the hall, leaving wet footprints in his wake as he walked.

A door opened a few rooms down, and a man poked his head out. He had a wide jaw, and angular blue eyes that gave the impression of a dog. The top of his hair was an odd, olive-brown, the bottom of it a lighter color, and cut closer to his head. "Yeah, Boss?" Dorochet—a dog Chimera—stepped out of the room, head tilted lightly. He wore sturdy leather boots with baggy blue pants tucked into them. Over a short-sleeved blue shirt, he wore an odd, almost kimono-like white robe. It was sleeveless, wrapped around his middle, and synched with a thin brown belt. Stuck through the belt was a katana, and he wore black wrist bracers that went on with a single zipper.

"I need to borrow one of your robe things," Greed said, knocking his head to the side slightly with one hand, trying to get some water out of his ear. "The girl's pants are soaked and her shirt is ruined."

Keeping any questions to himself, Dorochet quickly darted back into his room, coming out with the requested item, as well as a sash to tie around the middle. "Here ya go, Boss," he said, offering the robe to Greed.

But the Homunculus shook his head. "You dress 'er," he said, walking past his right-hand man. "I gotta talk to Martel and Roa." With a wave over his shoulder, Greed walked off, leaving Dorochet alone.

For several moments, he just stood there, blinking. Then he scowled, brows coming together. He grumbled a few choice phrases under his breath, turning and going down to Greed's room. He opened he door, and balked. The girl lay sodden on the couch, without a shirt or bra. Dorochet ran a hand over his face. "Goddammit, Greed," he muttered, shutting the door quietly.

A light blush crept onto his cheeks as he moved forward, throwing the sash and robe over one shoulder. He was no stranger to the sight of a woman's body, but Rayven was more girl than woman, as well as more unconscious than asleep. Shaking his head, he laid the robe down open on the floor. Then he slid his arms gently under Rayven's body, lifting her up before lowering her down onto it. He closed it over her chest, and then quickly undid her pants, taking them off with a few swift yanks.

Setting the wet fabric aside, he considered her underwear with a frown. He didn't want to take them off, but they were horribly soaked. Thinking for a moment, he darted back to his room and came back with a pair of his boxers. Going as quickly as he could without looking down, he switched his boxers for her underwear. He pulled the robe fully closed, and slowly lifted her into a sitting position; this made it easier to tie the sash around her waist.

He looked over at the couch, and sighed. There was a significant wet spot on it from her pants, as well as another from her hair. It was easy for him to lift the girl up, even with the added weight of her automail. He carried her over to Greed's bed, and laid her down, pulling the blankets over her. She whimpered as if in a bad dream, and he saw tears leak from under her closed lids.

Dorochet sighed, and sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing the tears away with his thumb. "You'll have to toughen up a lot, kid," he murmured, "if you're going to survive this place…" He got up, and moved over to sit on the dry half of the couch. He pulled out a long, slender Japanese pipe, stuffing it with tobacco before lighting it. He watched Rayven shift slightly on the bed, and exhaled a ring of smoke. _'Poor thing. Hope she can take this life…'_


End file.
